86ft
by Mechanism Unknown
Summary: Symbolic dream sequence. Eightysix feet left to walk, eightysix years left to wait as the world passes you by. Oneshot.


**86ft**

Indecipherably shrill sounds echoed in his ears. The water was slowly seeping into his shoes, soaking his socks and making walking through the brush all the more unpleasant. The vines tried to creep up his legs, but he quickly shook them away. More and more of them grew above, under, and around him, slowly working their way to covering the entire room. He didn't know where they could possibly have come from; all he knew was that he had to find a way out before either – or both – the vines and the water engulfed the habitable area in this seemingly infinite universe.

The light glinted off his glasses and reflected off another object, catching his attention. After carefully but difficultly stepping over the branches and through the ankle-deep water, Kyouya plucked the picture frame from the thorns that held it precariously. It was a copy of that picture of him, his brothers, and his father from a few years back that still hung in the main library. It was only then that Kyouya noticed that various papers and photographs hung from other vines as well – but maybe they weren't there before. He took the nearest one and identified the list of integrals as his math homework. He wondered what it was doing here when he thought he had turned it in to the teacher earlier that same day, but the question of _what is this place? _overruled the comparatively minor thought.

The shrill voices resonated against his skull.

The water was up to his knees, and it was hard to walk.

Pictures of his family, spreadsheets of Host Club accounts, essays that he had written, the impressive results of that IQ test he had taken, and even his preschool diploma lined every path he chose to walk, each with its own set of roots over which to stumble. A particular massive plant – a tree drenched in moss and ivy – supported branches decorated with hanging masks, all with different expressions. The one in the center was blank – no, more than blank, as if it held within it nothing but an expansive void – and floated inches from the tree in midair. Kyouya reached out and tried to grab it in order to discover its physics-defying secrets, but his hand passed right through the mask and hit the ivy behind.

The tones were only becoming louder and more high-pitched.

The water had nearly reached his waist, and it was uncomfortable.

He walked and walked and walked, as hard as it may have been through the high viscosity. Then, just as he felt that he couldn't walk anymore, he tripped and fell flat against a pane of glass. Through it, the interior of the Ootori mansion – he could see the maids and his bodyguards accomplishing their assigned tasks, but a hundred times the normal speed. His father came down the stairs and walked right past him.

Kyouya realized the streaks of noise were actually their voices, amplified and sped up.

The water licked at his shoulders, and it was intimidating.

Walls extended indefinitely from the pane of glass; a handle rendered it the only way out. Relieved that he finally found the exit, but disappointed that it turned out to be his house, Kyouya grabbed the doorknob from underwater and turned.

Locked.

The water stroked his lips, and it was far too salty than he would have liked.

He tried again, but it was no use.

He banged on the door and screamed, but no one heard him.

The water coasted over his head, and he couldn't breathe.

He kicked the door and gargled and pulled at the handle. The hollow mask fell against his hands. He didn't ask about its place of origination or why it was material this time. His finger brushed against the edge to push it out of the way, and the sharp paper cut into his skin.

Pain inflicted his senses, and it was annoying.

Fatigue washed over him, and it was unnerving.

Water entered his lungs, and it was terrifying.

Sleep overtook him, and it was like nothing.

…

"Kyouya? Please wake up…"

His eyes shot open. Tamaki's face, twisted with concern, appeared no more than a few inches away.

"You were sleeping, and you looked really…_scared_…like you were having a nightmare."

Kyouya didn't respond. The Ootori family didn't have nightmares.

"Are you okay?"

Kyouya stared at him and the look in his eyes, then slowly managed to offer a smile. "I will be," he decided.


End file.
